


Peace and quiet

by FinduilasLissesul



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinduilasLissesul/pseuds/FinduilasLissesul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this for the Fruk Gift Exchange 2015, for pianon on tumblr, I am reposting it here.<br/>It takes place in and right after the G8-meeting in 2013, which was held in Northern Ireland. After that England gets a call from America and things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace and quiet

     “Shut it, you stinking French idiot! Do not make me come over there and beat you to a bloody pulp!”

  
     “Honhonhon, you really think you would be able to do that? I would like to see you try, _rosbif_.” 

  
     The two nations stood across each other, hands resting on the table. The other G8 countries were also present at the meeting. They sighed loudly at the neighbouring countries constant quarrelling. Some even tried half-heartedly to stop them from launching at each other’s throats. However, they weren’t very successful. The fighting wasn’t exactly anything new, either. At least they usually made an effort not to kill each other these days, and some meetings could actually be tolerable, if not pleasant. I never lasted long, though. They always found something new to fight about.

  
     None of the other nations could remember what it had been this time, and they doubted even France and England knew precisely what it was themselves. It had started as rude comments, and then escalated quickly into larger arguments where both dragged in every little mistake the other had ever done.

  
     “Calm down, you two! We still have much to discuss until we can go home, and I’d rather not spend any more time with you than I have to! But please; feel free to continue this nonsense after the meeting.” Germany had finally had enough.

  
     “Yeah, dudes, seriously: this is getting old. I don’t understand what you’re fighting about either. I mean, you agree on basically everything regarding world issues, anyway. You even have two defence co-operation treaties!”

  
     “So what?! That has nothing to do with this. And that’s none of your business! Now stop interfering on matters you have nothing to do with, you sodding git!”

  
     “ _Oui_ , we do not need your meddling, _Amerique_.”

  
     “America can’t help himself. He thinks everyone needs him to be their hero. Even though the fact is that they would be better off without him sticking his nose where it does not belong, _da_?”

  
     “Hey! No-one asked you, communist!”

  
     “Please calm down, America, just ignore him.”

  
     “What? Who’re you?”

  
     “I’m Canada…”

  
     “Enough! Any problem you may have with each other, personal or other, please solve them after the meeting! That applies to all of you! Now, everyone, sit down. _Thank_ you. Now let’s get this over with.”

  
     Germany continued where they had left off, and soon they were actually able to do something productive. France and England still sent each other ugly glares over the table during the time neither of them spoke to answer questions or contributed to the discussion, to pass the time. France even stuck his tongue out at England once. It took all his willpower to resist the urge to throw his pen at France’s head at that moment. He didn’t want to get a time-out in the hall-way, after all. That would have been embarrassing. Instead, he just kept glaring. At that, France simply smirked back. And so on it went. They only partly paid attention to the discussion after that, too busy trying to intimidate the other in some way and at the same time stay unnoticed by the others. Of course, the rest did notice, but they pretended not to. After all, they were already way past the estimated time for the end of the meeting, and they were all tired after a long week full of them. It seemed like their leaders had figured it would be a good idea to cram as many meetings as possible into one week instead of dividing them.

  
     Finally, they all agreed to end the meeting, even though they hadn’t manage to decide on much. They never did. But it would be useless to continue this late. It was eleven o’clock and Italy had already fallen asleep several times when they decided it was time to quit. 

  
     Gathering up their notes and important documents, they left. Russia first, followed by America and Canada, having an engrossed conversation about hockey. Germany and Japan waited for Italy to go with them, so they were the last to leave. France and England proceeded to resume their bickering, just not that heated this time. It had been a long day and neither of them had the energy to waste on each other.

  
     “You’re an idiot, do you know that, frog?”

  
     “ _Oui, oui_. You constantly remind me, _cher_. But you are even worse. Claiming to be a gentleman. Hah! None of your behaviour is gentleman-like. You could learn a thing or two from me. I am much better behaved than you, _rosbif_.”

  
     “Fuck you! I am certainly better than you! I just chose not to waste my politeness on blabbering fools like you. Actually, you are a big waste of my time too. It would have been much better for me if you had taken a closer inspection of the guillotine during your revolutionary days.”

  
     “ _Quoi_?! That was uncalled for, England!”

  
     France put up a pout as they walked side by side down the corridor towards the exit. England felt slightly bad for bringing up that particular topic, but quickly decided to ignore that feeling.

  
     “Oh, please. You know both of us would be much more content with our lives if the other was gone.”

  
     “Ohh, I don’t know. I think you would be pretty overwhelmed, and even devastated, by my death.” France raised one eyebrow and smirked to England, walking by his side.

  
     “Hah! You wish! That would be the happiest day of my life. But of course, I would be the one to finish you.”

  
     “What are you talking about, _cher_? I would destroy you before I let that happen. But I guess we killing each other is a lot less probable in these times, _oui_?”

  
     “Yes, yes. It looks like it will be harder to do off with you.”

  
     A silence appeared between them for a few seconds. They were closing in on the front doors.

  
     “So, England. Are you going to invite me to your place for a drink now, or do I have to spend my night alone?”

  
     France smirked sedately as he held the door open for the other.

  
     “Hah! Forget it, frog. I am sure you have a girl or two ready to keep you companied tonight at your own place.” England stepped outside.

  
     “Hmmm… _oui_ , quite. I do not lack of people who’d be more than willing to do exactly that. Unlike certain others.” France glanced at the other out of the corner of his eye.  
     England scowled.

  
     “I _prefer_ being alone.”

  
     “Whatever you say, _cher_. Do still have a good evening – or should I say good _night_? It is a bit late now after all.”

  
     “Good night, France.”

  
     They gave a small wave at each other as they went their separate ways. The air still had a chill to it, so England wrapped a scarf tighter around his neck as he walked down the road. The meeting had been held at his place this time. And it just so happened that he owned a small apartment not far from there. England couldn’t wait until he reached it; he was incredibly tired and longed for a warm bed. For a brief moment, a swift thought entered his mind: what would it have been like if he could have shared the bed with France? He halted for a second, stopping in his pace, and then chuckled. That would indeed be outrageous and farfetched. Unthinkable even. But for some reason that thought had occurred to him more than once before. As he had done all the other times, he quickly shrugged it off before it evolved into something more. He couldn’t have that happening. It was not as if France even offered him a single thought himself. Better not dwell on it too long.

  
     England reached his apartment and swiped out the belonging key, unlocking the door, before he entered. He didn’t use this as much as the other places he held house, so the furnishing was limited. Not that he needed much. Nevertheless, because he finally had some long needed spare-time after this meeting, he had decided on spending a few days here, before heading back to London. But first he would be needing sleep.

  
     The next few days England spent by taking long walks by the many lakes and rivers, and visiting ancient castle ruins in, and surrounding, the area. However, the tranquillity would not last. On the third day there, he got a phone call. He sat on a park bench, reading one of his favourite books over again, when his phone rang. Annoyed by the interruption, he answered.

  
     “Yes, this is England.”

  
     “Hey dude, it’s me!”

  
     “Oh, hello America. How are things going on over there?”

  
     “Ahh, you know, like usual. Just me being awesome as always!”

  
     England could practically hear him smiling from ear to ear.

  
     “How about you, dude?”

  
     “Good. I’m enjoying my days off relaxing in the tranquillity only nature has to offer.”

  
     “Great! Then you don’t have anything important to do, right?”

  
     “I beg your pardon. What exactly are you getting at here, America?” England furrowed his brows suspiciously. He knew the other was setting him up to something.

  
     “Nothing! It’s just that… uuhhh… you see… we’re kinda worried about France, you know?”

  
     “France? And who might _we_ be?”

  
     “Mostly myself and  Canada.”

  
     “And what the hell is wrong with France? Not that I’m worried or anything! Wait, what does this have to do with me?”

  
     “Well, France has been locked up in his house for three days straight now, he is not answering his phone or doorbell, and we don’t think he is totally okay. I mean, we don’t know what’s the deal, but he has to come out soon. So we thought that maybe you could… you know… check up on him?”

  
     “Hmm, really? Wait, what?! Why do _I_ have to do that? Why can’t you get Spain or Prussia? Someone he actually likes. They are his friends after all.”

  
     “Dude, you know him best, you’re the closest, and you two have never been on better terms, right? So just take the Channel or whatever, and make sure he’s not dying over there!”

  
     “The _Chunnel_ , America. And fine! I will! Just… argh, never mind.”

  
     “Cool, then I’ll see you later! Tell him that Canada and I said _hi_. Good luck, Iggy!”

  
     Before he could say anything else, he heard the click that meant America had hung up on him. Slightly irritated, he cursed silently to himself. At the same time he was angry at both America and himself, for giving in, he was worried about France. He’d never admit it, though. England sat calm a few seconds more, then cursed loudly and stood up. Tucking the book under his arm and setting a fast pace, he quickly made his way to the apartment. What the hell was it with France this time?

  
     After a quick flight from Belfast to London, England simply took the train, Euro Star, to Paris. He did not want to bother with driving. The train was much more comfortable. Due to the time zones, it was already late when he stood in front of the door to France’s house in Paris.

  
     Suddenly he felt unsure, nervous. What exactly did he think he was doing? For all he knew, France could be somewhere else at the very least and not in any trouble at all. How did America and Canada even know he was here if he didn’t answer the bloody phone, nor the door. Glancing through a window, he could only see darkness inside. He took a deep breathe before he knocked on the door. As expected, there was no response. England tried the doorknob. Locked. He sighed. He never made things easy, did he? Fortunately, England knew there was a spare key on the space above the door. He grabbed it and locked himself in.

  
     He closed the door behind him and announced his arrival by calling France’s name. Not surprisingly, he didn’t get an answer this time either. Figuring the bedroom was the most probable room to find France in; he made his way up the stairs towards it.

  
     When he stood in front of the bedroom door, he found himself hesitating again. How was he supposed to approach this? He didn’t know what he would find behind this panel of wood. In what state would France be? Well, only one way to find out.

  
     England carefully knocked on the door at the same time as taking a step in.

  
     “France? Hello? Are you there? At least say you are dressed.”

  
     The bedroom was no exception from the darkness dominating the rest of the building. With closer examination, he could see the bed was unoccupied at the moment. However, he had the feeling France was in the room and sure enough, after looking behind the bed, he saw a bundle of blankets in a pile. Among them lay France, apparently dozing off. It was truly a sad sight. England counted at least five bottles of wine littering the place. France was still dressed, but his former royal blue shirt was stained with something he would rather not know the origin of, and his hair looked unkempt. The beard had grown as well.

  
     England crouch down, inspecting him further. There were bags under his eyes and his cheeks look somewhat hollow. _Shite_ , he thought to himself. Standing up again, he went to the bathroom to fetch a glass of water. Back, he sighed before splashing it on the other nation’s face.

  
     The reaction was anything but subtle. Jerking forward, France gasped for air and opened his eyes wide. After coughing and drawing a hand over his face, attempting to dry himself, he looked up, halting. England gave him a stern look and France glared back.

  
     “What?” His voice was rough, probably unused for a couple of days. England said nothing, just kept looking at him.

  
     “If you’re just going to stand there, you might as well go home.” France turned his back to him, curling himself up into a ball. England sighed and began collecting the bottles decorating the room, placing them beside the door. Then he went over to the window and pulled apart the curtains. Light from the street flooded through the glass, but it wasn’t enough to light up the room due to the late hour, so England turned on the switch to the ceiling lamp. France flinched at the sudden change in lighting. Then England heard a muffled voice.

  
     “What are you doing here, _Angleterre_?”

  
     “Hell if I know.” He walked slowly over to the other and sat down beside him, resting his back against the wall. The room was in total silence quite some time before England broke it.

  
     “What the hell are you doing, France?” Upon receiving no answer, he spoke again.

  
     “Canada and America are worried about you, you know.” He left out mentioning himself. France didn’t have to know that. A choked laughter came from the other.

  
     “Is that why you are here?” They went silent again.

  
     “What’s wrong, France?”

  
     “What? Why do you care?” England grimaced. How was he supposed to answer that? But he didn’t even get the time to think of a reply before France spoke once more.

  
     “Ah, I suppose it doesn’t matter. What is the point of anything really? Everything is dull and boring. It’s not like anyone even cares about us. Us nations. And if they do, it’s for selfish reasons. For their own power or just for the good of the country. Our bosses, for example.”

  
     “I think Hollande seems reasonable enough.”

  
     “That’s not the point. Do you ever wonder if the world had been better off without us? What purpose do we serve? If we never existed, would it have been a better place?”

  
     “Perhaps.” France turned his head to look at England, who kept staring out into the room.

  
     “If you’re here to comfort me, you’re doing a poor job, _Angleterre_.”

  
     “I’m not. I am here to tell you to get a grip at yourself, France.” England furrowed his eyebrows. He could feel France staring surprised at him. “I know you don’t have it easy. None of us has. And, true, you have gone through some tough shite in the past, but locking yourself in for days is not a solution. First of all, you have a duty, you can’t just neglect that. You have to suck it up for the sake of your people at least. We can’t always allow ourselves to act human, even if everything goes to hell and we can’t bear it anymore. We are countries. We are stronger than that. We have to be. _You_ are stronger than this, France.” England turned to look down at the other, still lying beside him. France didn’t say a word. England could see his eyes getting watery, and turned away as he wiped them on his stained shirt.

  
     “I don’t know if that was mean or comforting, but it sure was harsh.” England stood up. “Are you leaving already?” England could hear a slight worry in his voice, which he probably wasn’t supposed to. France was biting his lip, in regret of saying anything at all or the slip of emotion behind the words, England did not know.

  
     “No. And there isn’t anything you can do about it. You will be stuck with me for a while now, so get used to it.” He grinned down at France. “I am going to clean up your mess, and perhaps make you something to eat. You look like you haven’t eaten for some time. Don’t worry, I won’t cook anything. You probably have something I can heat. And I am going to prepare some tea as well. _You_ are going to take a shower, because honestly, you stink. Then get dressed and shave. And please be so kind as to shave it all off, frog.” He held his hand forth for France to grab. He looked up at him with big, confused eyes. After joisting him to his feet, England gathered up the blankets and headed for the door. France still hadn’t moved an inch. Standing in the doorframe, England looked over his shoulder at the other.

  
     “Are you going to move, or do I have to do everything for you?” At that, France seemed to wake up, and though he didn’t reply, he actually did what England had told him to.

  
     While France occupied the bathroom, England put the blankets in the washing machine and put away the empty wine bottles. Down in the kitchen he found some croissants in the fridge and put them in the microwave for heating. While waiting for them he filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove. On the shelves above the sink, he found the tea France had bought especially for their… meetings. When the croissants were done, he grabbed them, the kettle with the now boiling water, two plates and cups, and he brought it all out on a tray into the living room and placed it on the table by the sofa, before sitting down on it. Now he just had to wait for France to get finished in the bathroom.

  
     He didn’t have to wait long. After a few minutes, France descended the stairs. He was dressed in a loose, knitted sweater coloured dark blue and black trousers. With golden hair and a newly shaved chin, though not all of it, England thought he had never looked more beautiful. He looked down and pretended he had not just been staring at the other. He tried not to notice how his heart skipped a beat at the mere sight of him. France still looked a bit pale though, and although he had tried to cover them up, the bags below his eyes still showed. He sat down beside his neighbour and brushed a few strands of hair off his face.

  
     “Eat.” France did as England commanded, without any objection. England could see he tried to hide it, but it was clear that he was genuinely hungry. England took a croissant for himself as well. It had been a while since he had eaten at this point. When he was done, he poured the tea, and started sipping it while he watched France devour the rest of the croissants. He let him finish before he spoke again.

  
     “Now. Tell me what’s wrong, France.” The other halted.

  
     “Like I could tell you that.” His voice was low and gloomy.

  
     “Well, if you want someone else to talk to, you have to take that up with Canada and America, and I am sure they will send someone more suited over. Like Spain or Prussia, perhaps?”

  
     “That’s not what– I mean– I want you.” Realizing what he had just said, he blushed and began fanatically, stuttering trying to explain. “That is… I didn’t– I just meant that–“

  
     “It’s fine.” England interrupted. He bit his lip and tried not to blush by those words as well. They had had a greater impact on him than what he would like to admit. Still, France did not mean anything by it. It was just a slip of tongue. He cleared his throat.

  
     “Just… tell me what is bothering you.” He stared down at his teacup. It was silent for some time before England heard France whimpering, and looked back up. “France? What? Are you crying? Why–“

  
     “ _Angleterre_.” France addressed him with a lowered voice, and his gaze turned away. “Why am I so lonely?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, almost hysterically. “Can you tell me that? Why is it that everyone leave me? I have no one, and yet everybody else still has someone to spend special events with. To be with on Christmas, birthdays, and so on. Someone they love. Who loves them back. I don’t. Why am I so alone? Do people even want be with me, to spend time with me, or do they just tolerate me in a secret wish that I at some point would go away? Disappear. Just die. Do everyone hate me? They do, don’t they?” He broke down in violent sobs.

  
     At loss of what to say or do, England fumbled with a blanket, which had been lying beside him on the sofa, and wrapped it around France’s shoulders. He moved closer and patted his back awkwardly, if not calming.

  
     “People do not hate you, France.” France continued sobbing, even though he had quieted down a bit, and leant slightly towards England.

  
     “Now stop this nonsense and drink your tea before it gets cold, you will feel better.” England fetched France’s cup from the table and held it up for him to grab. France’s fingers trembled slightly as they wrapped around it. He brought it up to his lips and took a sip. France paused to dry some tear off his face with his shirtsleeve, before he continued to empty the cup. The silence that then appeared, France only occasionally interrupted by slurping his tea. England still rubbed his back, soothingly, to calm him down, while the other sat hunched over the cup, slightly shivering.

  
     “I greatly appreciate what you did, you know.” The words caught England off guard, and unsure what France was referring to, he replied.

  
     “Excuse me? What have I ever done for you?” It was meant as a joke, but a certain sincerity lay underneath. However, France simply chuckled and England, with his right arm on his back, could feel the vibrations going through his body and tried to tell himself that his heart did not flutter by those motions.

  
     “More than you know.” France had a sad smile on his face. “However, I was referring to the last world war. I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for that. I know how much you sacrificed then. And I was an idiot for not listening to y-” His voice broke down at the end of the sentence, and he had to place the now empty cup on the table for not to drop it on the floor. France hid his face in his arms, shaking.

  
     “Hey, hey, don’t go all sappy on me here! True, you were an idiot, you still are, and a lot of bad things happened. But that is all in the past. You shouldn’t think any more of it. What’s done is done, and none of us can do anything to change that. Don’t feel bad about it.” England sighed. “Seriously, France. I know you’ve always been a bit melancholic, but you’re better than this. Don’t let all the bad things get to you, focus on what you’ve got instead of what you don’t and when you screwed up.”

  
     France turned his tearstained face around to face England.

  
     “Well that is the point! I don’t have anything! I am all alone, and nobody likes me!”

  
     England could feel himself growing angrier by the second.

  
     “Of course you bloody have! What about you Spain and Prussia? They are your friends and they love you! And so does Canada and America! You raised them for a good long while for fucks sake! Not to mention all of Europe depend on you now, they need you! And most importantly: your people love you. That is what matters the most, isn’t it?” England drew a deep breath to calm down and closed his eyes. “And even though your personality is nothing to brag about, you are always kind, warm and slightly charming, and the way you love others make them love you. When you are happy you show it so well that it would brighten the mood for everyone the room, and you try your best to make other people happy. That is very admirable. Your jokes are not that bad. Remember; this is coming from me. And if it is your looks you are worried about, you don’t have to. I mean, your hair is always fantastic, your eyes shines like sapphires, and your body looks–” England stopped dead and stiffened. He could feel a burning heat spread all over his face. _Shite_. He had said far too much for his own good. The fact that France was staring at him, breathless, with an open mouth, did not help. He cleaned his throat. “Well. You get what I mean.”

  
     “And what about you?”

  
     “I beg your pardon?”

  
     “You have just explained how many different countries and people feel about me, but you have yet to say a word about yourself.” England could see France was trying to supress a smile. That made him immensely frustrated. That did not entirely go as planned.

  
     “Humph. What is there to say? You know I hate you as much as you hate me. I thought there was some kind of mutual understanding on that matter?” He raised one eyebrow at the other.

  
     “Apparently not quite so, it would seem.” France moved closer, seemingly back to his good old self. He placed his hand on England’s thigh, and murmured softly. “On my part that is.” England was about to interrupt, but France continued. “I think I may have forgotten at some point to tell you that you are quite charming yourself, despite your huge eyebrows. And that I love it when you act so tough, even though we both know that’s not always the case. The fact that you actually enjoy the tea I make you when you come to visit, but will never acknowledge it, and… that your eyes have the most beautiful shade of green I have ever seen.”

  
     England could do nothing but stare dumbfounded at him. It felt like his brain had broken down. France broke it. If it was possible, he had become even redder now than before. With his body stiff and eyes fixed at the other, he did not move an inch. Looking at him like that, he tried to find evidence of falseness in his blue eyes, something to indicate lies, and grew even more nervous when he found none. They appeared the most sincere he had ever seen them in a long time. And the slight tint of a blush on his cheeks supported that conclusion. England swallowed heavily.

  
     “ _Angleterre_.” France spoke slowly, as to make his point or explain something important. “I have always appreciated you being here by my side, both as a friend and a foe. As you have been by mine, I have been at yours, and even though we have both failed to voice that, I think tha–” Before France could say any more, England found himself moving and crushing their lips together as his hands buried themselves in the other’s hair. France responded with great eager and his hands wrapped around his torso and drew him closer. He could feel France smiling into the kiss, and when they parted for air, he saw that his face could practically have been glowing and it would not have appeared brighter. Slightly embarrassed by what he had just done, he pulled away and looked down at the floor.

  
     “So… err… are you feeling better yet?”

  
     France smirked and leant in for another kiss.

  
     “You’d be surprised.”


End file.
